


Sow

by enkaychi



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Blackmail, Dubious Consent, Homophobia, M/M, Prostitution, secret clubs for rich people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkaychi/pseuds/enkaychi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaejoong has been in love with Park Yoochun since the man rescued him from his life. He will do anything to help the older man. Anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the 'For rent to own' supposed to be one-shot. But it's ended up longer than I was expecting. I'm estimating about 4 parts.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright on your own?” Yoochun asked. He had his hands on Jaejoong’s shoulders and was peering closely into Jaejoong’s face as if to look for signs of deception.

Jaejoong nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll only be gone a little while but if you need me come get me.”

Jaejoong smiled at Yoochun’s worried face. “I’ll be fine hyung.”

Yoochun squeezed Jaejoong’s shoulders once and let go. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” 

It was more for reassurance for himself because Jaejoong certainly didn’t need it. He knew how to take care of himself. Jaejoong had survived being thrown out of his parents house to living on the streets to working at the… club. A room full of businessmen with too big pockets and even bigger egos would be no problem. He was used to their type.

“I’ll be fine,” he said again.

Yoochun nodded once and let go of Jaejoong’s shoulders. “Okay. If you need _anything_ , come get me.”

Jaejoong laughed and gave him a tiny shove. “ _Go_.” They were at this party so Yoochun could meet the right people in his company. He didn’t need to be wasting his time worrying needlessly about Jaejoong.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He left Jaejoong at the bar and disappeared into the crowd of suit clad, dress wearing people but not without one last look over his shoulder.

Jaejoong waved him off with a shooing motion and sat back down in the chair in front of the bar.

The bar tender gave him an amused look. “Possessive type?”

Jaejoong smiled wryly. “Something like that.” He picked up his empty glass and shook it a little. “Can I get another one of these?”

“Sure thing.”

Jaejoong placed the glass back down on the bar and leaned on one arm. It wasn’t so much that Yoochun was possessive, it was more overprotective. He didn’t really have anything to be possessive over. It wasn’t like he and Jaejoong were lovers. To Jaejoong’s unending frustration, Yoochun thought of him as a little brother, a little lost soul he needed to protect and take care of the way he hadn’t been able to do with his brother, Yoohwan.

Jaejoong had met Yoochun about half a year ago. He’d just gotten off work at The Room and had run into a few _unsavory_ types. 

Yoochun had saved him. The man had been out with a few of his friends and heard the commotion. He’d rescued Jaejoong and made sure Jaejoong got home to his shabby one room apartment. Upon seeing how Jaejoong was living Yoochun had insisted on bringing Jaejoong back to his place.

Maybe Jaejoong should have been more suspicious about why a man he just met had wanted to bring him home, considering his line of work it should have been enough to say no, or at least wondered if Yoochun had had a bit too many drinks and would regret offering once he’d sobered up in the morning and found a stranger in his apartment but Jaejoong hadn’t done either of those things. He’d just said yes and packed some of his stuff. He’d fallen in love at first sight.

It wasn’t quite fairy tale. Yoochun wasn’t a night in shining armor, Jaejoong had heard him be absolutely ruthless to his competition, and they didn’t ride off into the sunset together to live happily ever after but Yoochun had been his savior at a time when Jaejoong had resigned himself to his life. His own parents hadn’t seen anything of worth in him so why would anyone else. He did what he had to do to survive and it wasn’t more than that. He’d been surviving, doing the job he did to make enough money to put food on his table but little more beyond that.

Sometimes it still made Jaejoong angry and depressed. The club he’d worked for had been the most exclusive of exclusive. It had only been by chance that he’d gotten the job. Poor kids from the streets weren’t exactly what the owners had been looking for for their performers and back then Jaejoong hadn’t looked any different from the any of the other barely of age teenagers who roamed the streets of Itaewon looking for work.

No one could have looked at him and known that he’d come from a family that was not rich, but fairly well off, or if his parents had been too poor to afford to take care of him. And sure, Jaejoong was pretty but there were hundreds of others just as attractive, and some even more so, who didn’t skitter away from the gaze of strangers and who didn’t carry themselves like they had a grudge against the world.

He’d never found out why the man in the pinstriped suit had handed the card to him instead of one of those other kids but he did. The man had stepped out of the back of a luxury vehicle and stopped Jaejoong on the sidewalk. He’d been tall, with a handsome face and short styled brown hair. He’d looked Jaejoong up and down and handed him a small black card with cursive English lettering that read ‘The Room’ and nothing else. A folded paper with an address written on it had been clipped to the back of the card.

“Whether it’s out here or somewhere else you’re going to end up doing it. It you decide you want to do it somewhere nice, come to that address.”

That was all the man had said before he got back in his car, leaving Jaejoong standing confused on the street wondering what ‘it’ was. He’d had his suspicions, at that time he’d been picking up random jobs as a dishwasher for restaurants that were few and far in between but without fail, every single time someone told him he could make a lot more money doing something other than washing dishes. There was an endless supply of men who would pay for the services of someone young and pretty like him.

Jaejoong had wanted nothing to do with any of that. He might have been poor, friendless, and without family but he’d had his pride. When he’d gotten home that night he’d placed the card in a drawer. Why he hadn’t just thrown it out, he didn’t know but that card had turned out to be a blessing.

The man had been right. 

It had been two months after his run in with the man in the pinstriped suit that Jaejoong had finally found the end of his rope. Work had been becoming scarcer and scarcer, his rent was two months overdue and the landlord was threatening to take legal action if he didn’t move out. He’d known exactly how he could make a few thousand won quickly, no questions asked but he couldn’t bring himself to go out on the street, no matter how many times the _gangsters_ came around threatening him to work for them.

That was when he’d remembered the little black card he’d thrown away carelessly months before. The card had reeked of an elegance and wealth that it hadn’t when he’d first seen it and Jaejoong had though that if he was going to let go of his pride and morals then he should do it for more than a couple thousand won. It hadn’t been that he was definitely going to take the job. He just wanted to see what it was all about. There was no harm in looking.

The address was for an office building. The lobby was a large empty, black and white space with a single receptionist sitting behind a counter. She didn’t look up when he walked in. Jaejoong cleared his throat to get her attention.

She looked at him with an emotionless face and said, “Card.”

Jaejoong fumbled in his pockets to dig out the black card and handed it to her. She took the card with long thin fingers and glanced over it. “Wait here.”

She stood up from her chair and opened a door behind her desk to Jaejoong’s surprise. He hadn’t even noticed it was there, it blended seamlessly into the wall and he was been too startled to to notice what was behind it. The woman walked through the door quickly and closed it behind her, leaving Jaejoong puzzled.

He didn’t have long to wait before she came back through the door caring a black envelope. She handed it to Jaejoong over the counter. “Go there. Give him the letter.”

Jaejoong accepted the envelope with a quick dip of his head. “Thank you.”

The woman just made a noise in the back of her throat and went to back to her work as if Jaejoong had never been there.

Jaejoong turned and went out the way he came. There were no chairs in the lobby and he felt awkward standing around with the woman ignoring him. He clutched the envelope to his chest like a treasure and darted between the busy people on the street. He didn’t want to drop it when he inevitably knocked into someone on the crowded sidewalk. 

He ducked into a small cafe, sitting at the nearest empty table and carefully peeled the envelope open. The card inside was a larger form of the one the man in the pinstriped suit had given him, solid black with cursive silver writing. There was an address and a time on the card and a name underneath. _Changmin_.

Changmin. Jaejoong wondered if that was the name of the man in the pinstriped suit. He turned the card over to see if there was anything written on the back. There wasn’t and there was nothing else in the envelope.

“Excuse me, can I get you something?”

Jaejoong jumped at the voice, stuffing the card back into the envelope. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, it wasn’t as if there was anything incriminating on the card, but he felt like he shouldn’t let anyone see it.

He looked up at the waitress dressed in a white button down shirt and black pants with a green apron tied around her waist. She was holding a small notepad and had a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He could only imagine what he looked like to her. The cafe was hardly a four star restaurant but Jaejoong probably looked out of place in his threadbare hooded sweatshirt and torn jeans. He shoved the envelope into the front pocket of his hoodie and stood up. “Ah, no. I’ll be leaving.”

He bowed his head to her quickly and walked to the door, feeling her eyes on him the whole way. He glanced at the clock on the wall on his way out. 

4:13.

The card didn’t have a date but Jaejoong assumed he was meant to show up today. If he was wrong the worst thing that would happen was that this Changmin person wouldn’t see him and he would go everyday until he did.

He had almost two hours until six o’clock, what to do until then? He couldn’t go home. It would take almost an hour for him to get to his run down building from this part of the city, it would be a waste of time to try and go there and he would never make it back in time for six.

Jaejoong spent the time waiting at a park, watching the couples walking around obliviously in love and the mothers with their children. When it was close to six he headed over the area where he knew a lot of the higher end bars were. He hunched in on himself. A year ago he might have been one of the people walking around laughing, spending money without a care in the world but now that wasn’t the case.

The bar he walked into was less like a place to hang out and more like one of those themed clubs. It looked like one of those 1920’s speakeasies he’d seen in foreign period dramas. He felt out of place and stood out like the poor kid at a Tiffany’s shop.

He went over to the bar, eager to get out of this room as soon as possible and flagged the bartender’s attention. The man, who was dressed in a white collared shirt looked at him shifty eyed.

Jaejoong tugged the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands nervously. “I’m looking for Changmin.”

The man’s demeanor changed from suspicious to what looked like concerned. “Kid, Changmin ain’t the kind of man you want to see. Go home.”

Jaejoong scowled. “I’m not a kid.”

The bartender shook his head. “Nevertheless, he ain’t kind of man you want to see.”

“Now, Kangin. It’s Changmin’s business who comes to see Changmin and nobody else’s.”

The man who had spoken was sitting with one hand propped against the bar and the other holding a crystal tumbler half filled with brown liquid. He was wearing a light gray suit vest over a white shirt and had slicked back hair that looked just as greasy as his smile. Jaejoong couldn’t help but think he looked like some kind of gangster.

Or a businessman. There wasn’t much difference between the two.

“You got a card, pretty?” he asked. “No one sees Changmin without a card.”

Jaejoong bristled at the the word pretty but pulled the black envelope out of his front pocket and handed it to the man.

The man grasped the envelope over Jaejoong’s hand and pulled it away sliding his fingers over Jaejoong’s.

Jaejoong stuffed his hand in his front pocket rubbing it furiously over the material of his hoodie.

The man chuckled at him and looked inside the envelope. He tilted his head and ran his eyes over Jaejoong’s face. “Black card, huh?” He closed the envelope and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it’s none of my business who he decides to pick up.”

He knocked back his drink, downing it in one go and slammed the empty glass down on the bar. Jaejoong winced at the sound and the bartender, Kangin, shook his head but didn’t say anything.

The man stood up, patting the wrinkles down his clothes. “Come on.”

Jaejoong followed him to the back of the bar —club, he wasn’t sure any more — and down a narrow hallway that ended with a door. He pulled a card out of his vest and swiped it through the card reader above the handle. The card reader blinked from red to green and the man pressed his thumb to a panel next to the door. A second green light blinked on and he turned the handle, pushing the door open. He slid the card back into his vest and started up the staircase the door revealed.

It struck Jaejoong as overkill and he wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into with all the location transfers and cards with secret meanings and people who didn’t say more than they had to. It was all very cloak and dagger. Whatever it was, it was too late to turn back now. He had a feeling this wasn’t the sort of place you just got to walk out of.

At the top of the stairs was a small lobby very similar to the one Jaejoong had been in earlier in the day. The receptionist (if that’s what she was) even looked the same as the one he’d met before. 

She looked up at them with a blank face. “Mr. Cho does not wish to be disturbed.”

The man leaned against the front desk, one forearm resting on its surface with his hand dangling off the side and one foot crossed over the over. He held Jaejoong’s envelope in the air between two fingers on his other hand. “Kid’s got a black card.”

She took the envelope from the man’s hand and pulled the card out, pursing her lips as she read it. She pushed a button on her telephone and spoke into hear ear piece. “Sir, Mr. Choi is here with a black card.”

She waited, presumably to listen to a response from ‘Sir.’ It didn’t take long for her to say, “Yes, sir.” She looked at Jaejoong behind the man. “Mr. Cho will see you. Please go in.” She pointed to a door on one side of the lobby. 

Jaejoong nodded. There were no windows on the walls allowing view into the room so he didn’t know what to expect when he entered the room.

The man sitting behind a desk in the office was not the man in the pinstriped suit. He was dressed similarly to the way Mr. Choi was though he had pale skin and looked a bit older. He was neither handsome nor ugly, but the way he wore the clothes with the sort of effortless dignity Jaejoong had seen from some of his father’s friends made him look rather attractive.

Mr. Cho sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest and looked Jaejoong over. Though there was nothing overtly disagreeable about the look the man gave him, Jaejoong had the feeling that he’d been evaluated and already found wanting.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Cho asked.

“J-Jaejoong.” Jaejoong winced at the slight stutter in his voice. The last thing he wanted was to present himself as the nervous kid everyone was thinking he was.

“Is that your real name?”

Jaejoong nodded. “Yes,” he said, confused.

Mr. Cho tisked at his reply. “You haven’t been out on your own long have you?

Jaejoong had trouble forming a coherent answer. “I-That’s-What-” What did that matter? It wasn’t anyone else’s business how long Jaejoong had been on his own. It’s not like it was information necessary for the job he was trying to do.

The man tisked again and held up a hand to silence Jaejoong. “It doesn’t matter. Strip.”

Jaejoong jumped a little at the order. “What?”

Mr. Cho raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you not know what you are here for?”

“No,” Jaejoong answered. “I know.” He had a very good idea at least. It wasn’t any job that would pick someone up off the street and this wasn’t a talent agency. At least not the kind that would make him famous. 

Mr. Cho uncrossed his arms and leaned forward resting his elbows on the desk, hands folded under his chin. “Then take off your clothes.”

Jaejoong hesitated for a moment more before complying, dropping his clothes on the floor in a pile, it didn’t matter if they got wrinkled or not. He shivered, though it was more from the scrutinizing gaze than any sort of chill he might have felt.

“Turn.”

Jaejoong slowly turned in a full circle, feeling over exposed.

“You’re too skinny.”

Jaejoong flushed, he’d been subsisting mainly on water and ramen, it wasn’t like he could go out eating five course meals. Besides wasn’t thin supposed to be beautiful.

“We can fix that. You’ll do.”

Mr. Cho said it as if he didn’t think Jaejoong would do at all. It stung what little pride Jaejoong had left. He would show this man he was good enough for whatever they threw his way.

“Put your clothes back on.”

Jaejoong picked his clothes from the floor and dressed hurriedly.

Mr. Cho held out a thick stack of papers. “Take this. Read it. If you have questions, Mr. Shim will answer them. Then sign it.”

Mr. Choi. Mr. Cho. Mr. Shim. Which one of these men was the mysterious Changmin? 

Mr. Shim. Would he be another mysterious suit wearing man, Jaejoong wondered, half gangster, half businessman. “Who’s Mr. Sh-”

Mr. Cho held up his hand. “No. Go. We’re done,” he said waving his hand to shoo Jaejoong away.

Jaejoong took the stack of papers and bowed to the man before leaving the office. Mr. Choi was flirting with the receptionist though she was doing her best to ignore him. 

He straightened up when he noticed Jaejoong. “Right then,” he said giving Jaejoong that grin that was more smirk than smile. “So you get to meet the big boss.” He paused. “Well, bigger boss at least.” He nodded his head back towards the door that lead to the staircase. “Let’s go.”

Jaejoong bowed to the receptionist, “Thank you.” She didn’t look up from her computer screen or acknowledge him, same as the other woman. What was it with all these people, just because Jaejoong was poor didn’t give them the right to be rude. He shook his head. Those were thoughts he had best get rid off now. If the day was a representation of the sort of treatment he would get in the future than he would be better off getting used to it now. It wasn’t as if they were any different from the people whose eyes shifted away from him when they passed him on the street. He couldn’t afford to antagonize anyone.

His fingers curled around the papers and he held them tightly to his chest as he followed Mr. Choi down the stairs back into the lively atmosphere of the bar. He pretended he didn’t see the pitying look Kangin the bartender gave him or the now curious looks he got from the patrons as he trailed behind Mr. Choi.

They went out to a black car that looked like the one the man in the pinstriped suit had gotten out of the day Jaejoong got that first card. Mr. Choi opened the passenger door. “Get in,” he said before going around to the driver side of the car.

Jaejoong sat down and did up his seatbelt without any fuss.

He spent the drive flipping through the stack Mr. Cho had given him. There was an employment agreement, a very long nondisclosure agreement, a background check form, and what looked like several medical forms among other things. Once again, Jaejoong had the feeling that he was getting himself into something he might not want to be involved in. When he’d decided to go to the address on the card the man in the pinstriped suit had given him he thought it would be for a job in some fancy strip club, but all the cloak and dagger business and massive amounts of forms were telling him it was more serious than that.

In what seemed like no time at all, the car pulled into an underground garage of a warehouse and Mr. Choi was hustling Jaejoong out of the car and towards the building entrance.

There were two bouncers at the doors, though Jaejoong was reluctant to call them bouncers. Dressed in black suits, ties, and expensive looking dress shoes, they looked more like presidential body guards than the common night club bouncers. Mr. Choi was required to show some sort of identification card to to the men before they were allowed in. Whether it was because he wasn’t important enough to be able to just walk through the doors or because no one walked through those doors without identification, Jaejoong didn’t know.

Jaejoong was at a loss to describe the building they walked into. The ugly, dingy warehouse was a shell for what was probably the most luxurious building Jaejoong had ever been in. Between the crystal chandeliers lining the ceiling and the black marbled floors it looked a lot like the pictures he had seen of those five star hotels that cost millions of won a night to stay in but still _more_. He’d felt out of place in the bar, but here he felt like he shouldn’t even be touching the floors with his beat up sneakers. He had the urge to flee. Flee far and fast.

Before that feeling was allowed to settle and and take hold of him, a woman interrupted him. “Mr. Shim will see you now, 6th floor.”

The third receptionist Jaejoong had met (and he used the word met lightly) today looked the same as the other two. Triplets maybe? Or maybe these women were produced in factory somewhere from a mold. An endless supply of plain, blank faced, emotionless females to meet all their needs?

Mr. Choi led Jaejoong to an elevator. The inside was designed with the same black lotus design than was sprinkled around the lobby. There were no buttons, instead Mr. Choi passed his ID card over a reader on the side where most elevators had a neat row of numbers and said clearly, “Zero. Zero. Six.”

To Jaejoong’s surprise they started going down, not up. Deja vu back again, what was he getting himself into? No time to dwell on the thought, the elevator stopped in no time at all. The doors opened to a scene that had become very familiar to Jaejoong, empty pristine lobby with a single desk and a woman with hair tied back tight sitting behind it.

There was no waiting for attention this time. “Go right in,” she said as soon as they step into the lobby.

“Well, that’s as far as I go.” Mr Choi said. “Good luck, kid.”

Jaejoong felt a small pang of unease. He’d gotten used to Mr. Choi’s presence. The man left, stepping back into the elevator and closing the doors before Jaejoong could get out so much as a thanks.

He went into the office. Mr. Shim, for Jaejoong assumed that’s who the man behind the desk was, was the man in the pinstriped suit. Jaejoong supposed he should stop calling him by the moniker now that he had a name to go with the body, and Mr. Shim wasn’t wearing a pinstriped suit anymore. He was dressed in black slacks, a white shirt and dark gray vest. 

There was another man sitting in front of the desk. He looked slight but not delicate, the hard look on his face conveying he was anything but. 

Mr. Shim stood up and greeted Jaejoong with a smile, his eyes going crooked as he did so. “So you came after all.” He turned to the man n the chair. “Aren’t I always right?”

The man hummed an agreement.

Jaejoong bowed. "Hello. Are you Changmin?”

“Yes,” Mr Shim answered. “But you will call me Mr. Shim,” he said never loosing the smile. “Or sir.”

Will, Jaejoong noted. Not can, will. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Shim gestured to the man in in the chair. “My associate is Mr. Kim.” Mr Shim frowned at that. “Well, Mr. R. Kim. We have so many Mr. Kims running around this place you’ll need some way to distinguish them.”

Mr. Kim — Mr. R. Kim nodded his head at Jaejoong. 

Jaejoong bowed to him. “Hello.”

Mr. Shim sat down waving Jaejoong towards the chair next to Mr. R. Kim. “Sit, sit. We have many matters to cover and Mr. Kim’s time is incredibly valuable.”

Jaejoong rushed into the chair.

“Mr. Kim is a legal representative. He is here to explain that lovely stack of papers you have. We can’t have anyone being accused of tricking anyone into a contract now can we?”

Jaejoong shook his head.

“Of course not,” Mr. Shim continued. “Mr. Kim will make sure you understand every single word that is written in those papers before you sign them. If you decline to sign the non disclosure agreement, you will be escorted out of the building and we will never contact you again. Once you sign the non disclosure agreement I will show you exactly what it is you will be expected to do here. If you decide you can’t perform your assigned duties and decline to sign the employment contract, you will be escorted out of the building and we will never contact you again. All those other forms are for us to make sure we don’t have cause to terminate your employment. If everything checks out you will become one of our esteemed employees, otherwise we will terminate your employment contract, with no consequences to yourself and you will never hear from us again. Simple, yes?”

Jaejoong nodded his agreement feeling as though he could hardly do anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back!

Mr. Kim went through the Non-Disclosure Agreement line by line making sure Jaejoong fully understood what he would be agreeing to. Jaejoong was sure it took over an hour, the time during which Mr. Shim had spent staring at Jaejoong with a curious smirk on his face. It made Jaejoong all kinds of nervous but despite his jitters and nerves, Mr. Kim painstakingly made sure Jaejoong had no questions about what was written in the NDA, even going so far as to glare at Mr. Shim at one point when it became clear he was causing Jaejoong’s distraction.

Jaejoong briefly wondered why the man didn't have anything better to do than watch him but the answer came to him quickly. Despite their rather shady round about way of putting Jaejoong into contact with Mr. Shim, it did seem like these people were running a legitimate business, triple checking to make sure all the i's were dotted and t's were crossed. Mr. Shim was the needed witness. It made Jaejoong feel both better and worse at the same time and he couldn't help but remember Mr. Shim’s words to him. "If you want to do it some place nice".

At the the end of Mr. Kim’s explanations Jaejoong understood that talking, writing, signing, or in any way communicating what he saw inside the premises of the building with anyone outside of the building who had not also signed the agreement or in the presence of anyone who had not signed the agreement would result in fines. Hefty fines. Fines that Jaejoong would not be able to afford if he lived and worked ten lifetimes.

The threat he heard under all of the fine print and crisp white paper was if you try and bury us, we will bury you. Jaejoong felt like he was signing away his life when he scribbled his name in all the places Mr. Kim indicated and he hadn't even agreed to work for them yet.

Mr. Shim clapped his hands together and smiled wide again once Jaejoong had finished. He took the papers when Mr. Kim handed them to him and signed them himself. "You'll get a copy of these before you leave."

Jaejoong nodded.

"Good," he said, pushing his chair back from his desk and standing up. "Then let's show you what you'll be doing should you choose to accept our terms of employment."

Jaejoong got out of his chair. Mr. Shim seemed much taller now than he had when Jaejoong had met him out on the street. He was only a few centimeters taller than Jaejoong but the man made Jaejoong feel small and he fought the reflex to curl in on himself to make himself seem even smaller.

Mr. Shim smirked at him as if he could see the thoughts inside Jaejoong's head, one side of his mouth curling up in amusement. He placed a hand on the small of Jaejoong's back and gently pushed him forward. “You’ll need some new clothes first,” he said, wrinkling his nose ad Jaejoong’s wear torn jeans and hoodie. “Come along.”

He ushered Jaejoong out of the office with a last word to Mr. Kim. “We’ll be in Key’s room. I’ll call you when we’re finished. I know you find the performances distasteful.”

Jaejoong saw Mr. Kim nod and wave his hand before he was pushed out the door. Mr. Shim slipped his arm around Jaejoong’s waist and led him out to the elevator. 

The receptionist stood up and bowed as they passed. “Enjoy your night, sir.”

Mr. Shim smiled at her. The smile was different from the ones he had been giving Jaejoong, far less predatory. Mimicking Mr. Choi’s earlier actions he pulled out an ID card and passed in over the card reader. “Zero. Zero. Three.” The elevator went up this time.

The doors slid opened to a busy corridor. People rushed in and out of rooms yelling for someone to bring them this item or check that light setting. Jaejoong stepped out of the elevator only to be almost run over by a man pushing a cart who yelled “Watch it!” at him.

“Careful,” Mr Shim said, putting his arm around Jaejoong’s shoulders. He led Jaejoong to a door that said _Costume_ on the outside. The room was filled with attractive men and woman in various states of undress who all stopped what they were doing and bowed as soon as they saw Mr. Shim.

“Everyone out,” the man said, pushing Jaejoong into the room. “Heechul, stay.”

They all rushed out of the room, leaving behind a skinny feminine looking man with long hair, dressed in light blue skinny jeans and the oddest multicolored shirt Jaejoong had ever seen. It looked like a poncho. “Who’s this then?” he asked.

“Heechul, meet Jaejoong,” Mr. Shim said gesturing between them. “Jaejoong, Heechul. Another Mr. Kim.”

“Hyung,” Heechul corrected, narrowing his eyes at Jaejoong.

Mr. Shim rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t work here yet,” Mr. Shim said.

Heechul sniffed. “He will,” he said matter of factly. “He’s too pretty to let go.”

Jaejoong bristled.

“Don’t like being called pretty?” Heechul asked. “Get used to it.”

Mr. Shim coughed. “Heechul, be nice.”

Heechul turned a radiant smile towards Mr. Shim. “I’m always nice. I assume you want me to do something about his,” he waved a hand towards Jaejoong’s body, “attire,” sneering at the last word.

“Please.”

Heechul turned and disappeared into an open door. Jaejoong could hear rustling and muttering from inside.

Mr. Shim sat down on a dresser resuming his observation of Jaejoong.

Jaejoong twitched.

Mr. Shim gave him that strange half predatory half amused smile again, eyes never leaving Jaejoong’s form.

“This.” Heechul came out holding up a hanger with white clothing on it.

Mr. Shim stood up and looked skeptical. “White?”

“He’ll look perfect.” Heechul tugged at Jaejoong’s hoodie. “Off.”

Jaejoong looked past him into the clothing room. He could change in there.

Heechul snapped his fingers. “Now!”

Jaejoong didn’t know why he thought he’d be able to change in privacy after the scene he’d first entered this room into. Plus he’d already had to strip down naked for one person. He tugged his hoodie and the T-shirt underneath over his head.

“He’s skinny.” Heechul said.

“We know,” Mr. Shim replied dryly. “We’ll fix it.”

Jaejoong toed off his sneakers and pushed his jeans down his legs, leaving himself dressed only in his boxer briefs.

“All of it.” Heechul demanded.

Jaejoong nodded and took off his underwear. He didn’t have anytime to be uncomfortable before Heechul was pushing the white pants at him. “On.”

Jaejoong pulled on the pants. They were made out of some kind of leather material that felt soft and smooth against his skin. 

Heechul batted Jaejoong’s hands away from the waist of the pants when he’d gotten them all the way up and pulled the string it had for fastening tight. He then swung the shirt around Jaejoong’s shoulders. “Arms.”

Jaejoong pushed his arms through the wholes in the shirt. It had no sleeves and was really more like a vest, no sleeves and no buttons. It hung down to the tops of his knees and left his arms and chest exposed. 

Heechul turned his head to look at Mr. Shim while he tugged the material to hang flat. “Shoes?”

Mr. Shim shook his head. “No need.”

Heechul stepped back and looked Jaejoong over. “He’s done.”

Mr. Shim walked around Jaejoong slowly, nodding his head in approval. “You do good work.”

Heechul scoffed at him. “Of course.”

Mr. Shim stopped in front of Jaejoong and tilted his head. “One thing missing though.” He wrapped an arm tight around Jaejoong’s waist and covered Jaejoong’s crotch with the other.

Jaejoong gasped and pushed at his chest but Mr. Shim held him tight. He rubbed firmly over Jaejoong’s cock until it hardened in the pants, then stepped away looking at the bulge now present in the front of Jaejoong’s pants. “There. Perfect. I’ll be very disappointed if you let that go down. You’ll need it later,” Mr. Shim said.

Jaejoong nodded, his eyes wide in shock. “Y-yes, sir.” He could only imagine what he’d need an erection for and none of it was something he was looking forward too. Every thing was moving too quickly for him to properly process.

Heechul rolled his eyes. “Are you done here? I was in the middle of show preparations.”

“All done.” Mr. Shim pressed a kiss to Heechul’s cheek. “Thank you, Heechul.”

Heechul pushed him away. “Just send my dancers back in.”

Mr. Shim grinned and took up his place next to Jaejoong. “Let’s go.”

Jaejoong walked with him, barefoot, out the door wondering if that was the sort of treatment he would have to expect working here. The group of dancers waiting outside the room gave him a mix of looks, some curious, a few envious, and more than a fair share pitying. Jaejoong ignored them and just focused on the cold floor against the bottoms of his feet instead of the burning weight of Mr. Shim’s arm around his waist and the uncomfortable hardness in his pants.

Mr. Shim took them down to the fourth floor which also led to a corridor but was quiet and seemingly deserted. Instead of the stark white of floor above it was done in all black flooring and walls with the same lotus design Jaejoong had seen when he’d first entered the building.

The door they stopped in front of looked more like the entrance to a safe. Mr. Shim used his ID card and a passcode to get in. The room looked like something found at an upscale hostess bar with the exception of the large glass window covering one wall of the room. Jaejoong tried to look through it but saw only darkness on the other side.

Mr. Shim plopped himself down on the couch stretching his arms across the back and kicked his feet up onto the glass table in from. He nodded his head to the space beside him. “Sit.”

Jaejoong sat next to Mr Shim wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“That’s a two way mirror,” Mr. Shim said. We can see through to the artists but all they see from their side is a mirror. For privacy.”

“Artists?” Jaejoong questioned.

“Yes. That’s what you’ll be if you accept the job.”

Jaejoong nodded.

“Each artist is assigned their own performance room. Viewing rooms like this one surround the performance room.” Mr. Shim smiled toothily. “Of course not all the artists have the same number of viewing rooms. That depends on what their final bid was and what their patron allows.”

“Bid? Patron?”

Mr. Shim placed a finger to his lips. “Hush. Don’t interrupt.” He dropped his hand and focused on the window.

The lights in the room on the other side of the window turned on. There was a skinny blonde boy in a black robe sitting on a bed in the middle of the room. Jaejoong could see several mirrors lining the walls of the room, other viewing rooms he assumed.

“That’s Key,” Mr Shim said. “He’s one of our more popular artists. I don’t understand the appeal myself, but to each their own.”

On the bed Key rose to his knees and untied the sash holding the robe together. He slipped his arms out of the sleeves and dropped the robe on the floor beside the bed.

Jaejoong turned away, looking instead at the table in front of him. He wondered if the job was live pornography. He wasn’t far off the mark.

“Our main business is voyeurism here at The Room. We cater to people who like to watch, but we don’t do anything so crass as recording performances.”

Not pornography then. Or maybe it was, Jaejoong wasn’t clear on the exact definition.

Mr. Shim turned to look at Jaejoong. “We also serve a very exclusive subset of clientele who prefer to touch. This is a patron.”

And prostitution. Jaejoong suppressed a shudder. He would have liked to tell himself he didn’t know what was going on here but he did know that would be part of the job. ‘On the street or some place nice.’ Those were the options he had now. He barely had any employable skills, not even finished with secondary school when his father had thrown him out, but he knew he was attractive. Pretty was the word most people used although Jaejoong hated it.

Jaejoong looked back at Key. He was touching himself and though Jaejoong was not usually stimulated by Key’s type, his body was already in a heightened state of arousal after Mr. Shim’s earlier attentions. He shifted uncomfortably.

Mr. Shim continued as if he were unaware of Jaejoong’s predicament. “New artists are assigned a patron through auction. You’ll perform one show like this one,” he nodded his chin towards the window, “for a select group of potential patrons. Whoever offers most for your contract wins.”

Like cattle, Jaejoong thought. Or slaves. He berated himself for the thought. He was supposed to be grateful for this opportunity. He was grateful. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

“As such, all decisions regarding what you do and do not do here are your patron’s. He or she will choose how often you perform, who is allowed to watch performances, and what you do during your performances. In some cases a patron will choose to keep your _other attentions_ to themselves. If they don’t, they decide who gets to spend time with you, how long, when and where.”

Jaejoong swallowed. “Are we allowed to refuse?”

“Of course,” Mr. Shim answered. “You’re employees, not slaves. The money offered for your contract is yours, though it is dispersed to you in multiple payments. We want you happy and healthy, not suddenly desperate and destitute after blowing all your cash in some extreme shopping spree for you and all your friends.

“That said, once you refuse a task given to you by your patron, your employment here is at an end. If your patron permits it, you may discuss all terms of your employment before you are expected to fulfill duties. Many are quite happy to honor the wishes of their artist and respect what they won’t do.”

Most, Jaejoong noted, but not all. Maybe he would be lucky. He nodded his understanding. “And if we refuse, what happens to the rest of the money we haven’t gotten yet.”

“That’s up to your patron,” Mr. Shim said simply. “If they are satisfied with your work, then most likely they will give you the rest of the money and cut ties with you. You’ll live the rest of your life on your own terms. If they are unsatisfied, they’ll decide how much they want to pay you before partings ways, it could be half or it could be nothing. That’s a risk you take. In rare cases, they are extremely pleased and after you leave here you never have to worry about money a day in your life. Your relationship beyond the walls of The Room is up to you. If you want to keep seeing your patron, that’s your business. If not, the patron is expected to honor your wishes. You’ll essentially be taken care of like family for the rest of your life, however distant you decide.”

“And what if a patron can’t pay?”

Mr. Shim’s eyes darkened. “We don’t have patrons who can’t pay. One way or another.”

After that, Mr. Shim was silent until Key’s exhibition was finished and the performance room went dark. “I’ll give you a week to decide.”

Jaejoong shook his head. “I’ll do it.” It wasn’t a snap decision and if they gave him a week he might talk himself out of it. He couldn’t afford that. He’d be right back where he started, only without this offer and it was leagues better than anything else he would get, the best of a bad situation.

“No,” Mr. Shim said. “You will take a week.”

His tone left no room for argument but Jaejoong was going to try anyway when there was a ringing in the room. 

Mr. Shim shifted, pulling a sleek cell phone out of his clothing. He sat up straight and answered the phone. “Yes, hyungnim.”

There was a narrowing of his eyes and a purse of his lips. “And what about his audition?” Mr. Shim paused for an answer and nodded, sharply. “Yes, hyungnim.” 

Mr. Shim hung up and the phone disappeared beneath his clothing. “You can sign today,” he said in a tone that conveyed disapproval.

Jaejoong wondered who the man on the other side of the phone was that he could make someone as intractable as Mr. Shim obey him with only a few words. Unwarranted, the thought Boss of Bosses passed through his head, but it wasn’t like this was the mob. At least, Jaejoong didn’t believe they were a kkangpae, they only looked a little bit like actual gangsters.

Mr. Shim stood up and went to the door of the room speaking quietly to someone outside it and then turned back to Jaejoong, leaning against the wall. 

Jaejoong squirmed under his scrutiny. It had lost the amusing touch Jaejoong had felt earlier and had taken on a hostile tone. Jaejoong hoped it didn’t bear ill portents for his future employment.

A soft knock came at the door. “Come in,” Mr. Shim said.

The lawyer, Mr. R. Kim, walked in carrying another stack of papers. He glanced over at Mr. Shim and shook his head at him. “This is not how we do things.”

Mr.Shim curled his lips in a scowl and shrugged one shoulder. “Hyungnim’s orders.”

Mr. Kim let out a puff of air and sat down next to Jaejoong. “I see. Let it be known that I do not approve.” 

“You’re disapproval is noted,” Mr. Shim replied, dryly.

The second stack of papers Jaejoong had to sign that day proved to be even more complex than the first. Again, Mr. Kim made sure Jaejoong understood everything he was signing in the employment contract. There wasn’t a single mention of sex anywhere in the documents, only references to ‘services provided,’ though clearly all parties understood it for the euphemism it was. The process was long and arduous, made even more so by Mr. Shim’s unwavering scrutiny, and Jaejoong’s hand was cramping by the time he signed the last page.

Jaejoong put down the pen and flexed his fingers to loosen the muscles. It was a done deal now, Jaejoong wouldn’t back out. He watched Mr. Kim organize the stacks Jaejoong had finished with and pack them into a case Jaejoong hadn’t noticed the man had brought with him.

“You’ll be provided with a copy of these as well,” Mr. Kim said, standing up. “I will leave the two of you to your discussions.” He exited the room mumbling to himself about lack of proper procedure.

Mr. Shim pushed off the wall and a flicked a card into his hand. Presumably the small piece of paper was retrieved from somewhere inside his clothing. “You’re auction exhibition will be held in a month. If you change your mind before then, just call.” He held the card out for Jaejoong to take.

Like all the other cards Jaejoong had seen, this one was black with silver writing, but it resembled a business card more than anything else. It had Mr. Shim’s name and contact information. Jaejoong nodded his acknowledgment.

“A car will pick you up and bring you to the appointments you’ll have to attend before your exhibition. You’ll also be driven to and from work on the days you’re here.”

“I live in a bad neighborhood.”

Mr. Shim’s lip quirked. “No one with ounce of self preservation would cross the black lotus. Besides, with what we pay you, you’ll be moving soon. Do you have any questions?”

Jaejoong got the impression that Mr. Shim did not want him to have questions but he asked anyway. “Why did you pick me?”

“I didn’t,” Mr. Shim said harshly, as if the thought of Jaejoong thinking it was his decision was intolerable. “Our hyungnim knows true beauty when he sees it and we obey his judgment.”

“Hyungnim?” Jaejoong asked curiously. The same hyungnim Mr. Shim spoke to on the phone?

“You’ll meet him sooner or later. I wouldn’t be in a hurry to do so if I were you.”

It was the last thing Mr. Shim said before ushering Jaejoong away with escorts to see him out the building. Jaejoong was driven home in a nice car, as promised. When he finally collapsed on the thin blanket he used as bedding on the floor it was with a head full of uncertain thoughts wondering for the hundredth time that day what he had gotten himself into.


End file.
